Read Blood Trust for Free Online Page A

saw Alli walking toward them out of the blinding light. She was between two suits who looked to him like Metro police detectives. Behind them came Naomi, McKinsey, and Commander Fellows, but Jack’s attention was riveted on Alli. She was in handcuffs. He began to make a move, but Jenkins, anticipating him, grabbed his arm to restrain him.
    “In these matters I’ve found that methodology is better than instinct,” he said softly, so only Jack could hear.
    “For God’s sake, she’s been arrested.”
    “Mr. McClure, let me handle it.”
    Jack, after a moment’s thought, allowed Jenkins, whatever his reaction to the horror of the crime scene, to take point. The lawyer strode toward the semicircle of people, with Jack and Carson flanking him, as if they were a raiding party. The moment she spied Jack, Alli’s eyes lit up, but despite how well she seemed to be holding up Jack could tell that she was badly shaken.
    “Do you think that’s a wise move, Detective O’Banion?” Jenkins said.
    O’Banion looked blankly at Jenkins. “Who the hell’re you and how d’you know my name?”
    “I’m Ms. Carson’s attorney, Harrison Jenkins.”
    O’Banion sneered. “An ambulance chaser.”
    “Watch yourself, Officer,” Jenkins said.
    “I’m a detective.”
    “Then act like one.”
    When O’Banion continued to glower at him, Willowicz stepped up. “Alli Carson is under arrest for the murder of William Penn Warren.”
    “I assume, Detective Willowicz, that you’re referring to the victim strung up behind you,” the lawyer said as he picked his way among the trees.
    “D’you know what’s in my service jacket, as well?” Willowicz said in a mild tone of voice.
    Jenkins nodded. “Everything I need to know. Wounded twice in the line of duty, a medal of honor.”
    All this from the one phone call Jenkins had made. Jack was impressed, despite himself. He despised lawyers almost as much as O’Banion, because they had a knack of knitting a skein of gray areas and half-truths into a story a jury could believe in.
    “Jack, this is a crazy mistake,” Alli said. “Please listen to me.” She recounted what had happened and how she had come to be a suspect in William Penn Warren’s torture and murder.
    “All of this is circumstantial,” Jenkins said, unperturbed.
    Willowicz nodded. “True enough.” He held up a plastic evidence bag. “On the other hand, our forensic team found a vial with traces of Rohypnol under Ms. Carson’s bed and this bloody knife in a trash bin behind her dorm room.”
    “Please hand them over, and whatever other evidence you have,” Jenkins said.
    “What?” O’Banion stood with his feet planted in a clearly combative stance. “Back off, windbag, this is our jurisdiction.”
    The small, secret smile Jack had noticed earlier had returned to Jenkins’s face. “Tell me, Detectives, just how did you wind up at the scene of the crime?”
    “We caught Commander Fellows’s call,” Willowicz said.
    “So, what you’re telling me is that the commander invited you here to Fearington.”
    “That’s right,” O’Banion said.
    Jack could already see the changed situation dawning on Willowicz’s face.
    “Fearington is federal property,” Jenkins said.
    “What?” both detectives said at once.
    “The federal government bought this parcel three years ago.”
    Jack knew a cue when he heard it. Stepping forward, he presented his ID. “Jack McClure, Department of Homeland Security. You have no jurisdiction here. I’ll be taking over this case, Detectives.”
    “Oh, you’ve fucking got to be kidding,” O’Banion said.
    Willowicz said nothing because he knew which way the wind was blowing. He handed over the bags with the vial and the bloody knife.
    “What’s this?” The ME appeared out of the trees. “Those are my evidence bags.”
    Jack showed his ID. “Not anymore.”
    “How is this homicide a matter of national security?” Saunderson looked put out.
    “That’s a matter of